"There is only a faint moon to-night," he reflected; "and I'm afraid that's against us."
The American Indian prefers to do his mischief in the dark, and, since it would be impossible for the horsemen to conceal their approach, they would be likely to suffer in the first collision with the red men.
But, on the other hand, would not the gloom be of help to Red Feather in some scheme doubtless formed to help the children whose friend he had so suddenly become?
What the nature of this scheme was (if such existed) Melville could not guess; it might be that it required a bright moon for its success.
It may be said that the Sioux chieftain, as he stood beside one of the narrow windows on the lower floor, racked his brain until he hit upon a way of aiding the brother and sister—especially the latter—in their desperate peril. It was a strange plan, indeed, and, with all his adroitness, he knew the chances were ten to one against its success.
But the chief gave no hint to Melville of what was going on in his mind, and the latter could only wait, and hope and pray that the same Heavenly Father who had protected and preserved them thus far would keep them to the end.
The youth was in the midst of his speculations over the matter when he fancied he detected a peculiar odor from the outside. He could not tell its nature, though he snuffed the air repeatedly. He was alarmed, for he connected it with the silence of the war-party outside.
He was on the point of appealing to Red Feather downstairs, when its nature flashed upon him. It was smoke!
He had hardly reached the decision when a mass of thick vapor rolled in front of the house, so dense and blinding that for the moment it shut from his sight the mounted sentinel on the hill.
What was dreaded by the besieged had come at last. The Sioux, aware of the great value of the minutes, had resorted to the torch.